


Serenity: Threnodies

by Fuzzybuttkins



Series: Dragon Age: Serenity [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26005657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuzzybuttkins/pseuds/Fuzzybuttkins
Summary: After standing with Hawke against Meredith, Serenity leaves Kirkwall with Anders to see him exiled to the Deep Roads. She learns the Divine has sent agents to seek her out, but she cannot give up on her mission for the cure when she's so close to finding it.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Warden
Series: Dragon Age: Serenity [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708942
Kudos: 6





	1. The Legion of the Dead

Outside the city limits, Alain and Nathaniel sat upon a smooth, sun-bleached log of driftwood as Mabari-Cullen walked around sniffing the area and marking his territory, soon to be washed away by the high tide. Anders stood sullenly before them, staring out at the vast ocean as the waves crashed against a rockface so the sea spray blew back towards them in a mist. He had taken off his shoes so his feet would sink into the sand as the water lapped at his toes. Magical debris from Kirkwall reached as far as this beach, littering the sand with ash and tiny red embers.

Even with the soothing sound of the water reaching for shore, in tandem with his every breath, Anders could not be at peace. He knew he never would be, not when the world was so full of injustice and he was responsible for the deaths of so many innocents. The quiet gave him enough room to reflect and question whether his choice was the wrong one. For so long, he stopped fighting the spirit of Justice, but now that he stood under the fallout, he wondered if he should have pushed back. He still couldn’t see any other way to stop the templars’ abuses. What he did put a stop to the Knight-Commander’s reign, but the mages still weren’t free. How would the other Circles respond to the battle at the Gallows? Would the mages cower in submission to the Chantry or would they demand justice as they rightfully deserved? 

He didn’t expect he would ever find out, confined to the Deep Roads. He wasn’t sure whether Serenity intended to show him mercy, if she wanted to deny him martyrdom, or if she wanted to punish him in the worst way she could imagine. Maybe it was all of those reasons that she chose to send him into the Deep Roads. He abhorred those dark tunnels as much as she did. It was hard to breathe, smothered in the darkness with the thick humidity and the humming of the taint. He would know no peace fighting with the Legion of the Dead. Would he be able to acclimate to the ever looming threat of darkspawn nearby, like the ringing in one’s ears after being struck by a crack of lightning? 

* * *

  


Serenity stopped by the Hanged Man on her way out of Lowtown and found Varric amidst the rubble. The roof had been caved in in the dining room and the building was ransacked by thieves, but it was otherwise in decent shape. Fortunately, she had left nothing of value in her room and only returned to say goodbye. Apparently Hawke had done the same already. 

The sun was falling behind the horizon when Serenity reached the Storm Coast and Mabari-Cullen ran to meet her, alerting the others to her presence.

“I think your dog was pulling rank on me,” Alain greeted her. “He insisted on leading me, not the other way around.” 

“That’s because he’s a Senior Warden,” Serenity smiled, patting M.C.’s head fondly. 

“He… really?”

“Really,” Nathaniel answered. “She wanted him to have my title, but without opposable thumbs, he can’t very well do all the paperwork.” 

Mabari-Cullen barked happily, tail wagging, and trotted off ahead of them. 

“I brought provisions for a week,” Nathaniel said. “You’ll want more if you are staying in the Deep Roads instead of taking a ship. I don’t suggest subsisting on Deep Mushrooms without unpleasant side effects.”

“I have jerky and cheese,” Serenity said. “It’ll keep longer than that, provided Cullen doesn’t eat it all.” 

“Cullen?” Alain asked, dumbfounded as he looked around. “Is the Knight-Captain coming with us?” 

“M.C.,” Serenity clarified. “That’s what his initials stand for.” 

“Oh,” Alain said quietly, thinking about it. “Is that why you wanted me to protect the Knight-Captain? Or were you actually telling me to protect your dog?” 

Serenity chuckled, “Both, really. I used to belong to the Circle in Ferelden, back when Cullen first joined the order.” 

“I’ve heard the rumors,” Alain admitted. “I never believed them until now. But it’s not as though I’d ever spoken to him before he took me in for questioning.”

“The Circle is in good hands with him as their interim Knight-Commander. They had better make it official though,” she said and glanced behind them at Anders where he stood on the beach, looking out vacantly at the waves. “We should go.” 

“I doubt it will be more than a few hours until we run into darkspawn,” Nathaniel said. “They’ve moved closer to the surface in the last several months. I’m not sure why, but maybe it has something to do with the frequent expeditions searching for new thaigs. Ever since Hawke went down there and found the red lyrium, ambitious fools are searching for untouched treasures.” 

“It might have something to do with that darkspawn magister Hawke killed,” Serenity said. “This is good for you at least, Alain. The closer they are to the surface, the less time you have to spend hunting them in the dark.” 

“I wish I found that as reassuring as you intend it to be,” Alain said, feeling ill at ease by the threat of darkspawn. 

  


Mabari-Cullen led the group to a cave infested with spiders on the mountainside. After clearing it out and lighting a torch, they followed him into a tunnel leading down into the Deep Roads. Serenity followed at the rear, keeping pace with Anders. On the way up the mountain, he had moved slowly, his shoulders slumped with dread. Once they were enveloped in darkness, however, he picked up the pace and stayed close to the group.

It might have been midnight when Serenity started to feel the presence of darkspawn. Only a small group if she had to guess, but where there was one darkspawn, there were always more not far from it. 

“They’re close,” Nathaniel said. “Do not be frightened, Alain.” 

Alain nodded, his heart pounding so hard in his chest he could feel it in his throat. “I hear they’re fast,” he said. “Fast enough that you can’t outrun them.”

“We’re not here to outrun them,” Serenity reminded him. “Do you know any glyphs? You could slow them down if you like.” 

Alain nodded nervously and gripped his staff so tightly his knuckles paled. “Where should I cast it?” 

“Wait until you see the darkspawn,” Serenity answered. “They’re inside that tunnel.” 

Anders raised his hand to cast a barrier around Alain and said, “After you.” 

Alain hoped they couldn’t see that he was shaking like a leaf, but he knew this was something he had to do. He trusted they wouldn’t let any harm come to him—not anything permanent, anyway. It was a small comfort knowing they had a spirit healer with them in case he was so weakened that he was incapable of healing himself. Casting spells took a great deal of concentration, despite what the templars might have thought. Perhaps for some of the more seasoned senior mages it was as easy as breathing, but that wasn’t the case for most people. You had to remember the spell, not only the words if the spell required reciting something but the way it felt when you reached for it. That’s how he thought of it, reaching into the air for something nobody else could see and connecting with it from within himself. No text could aptly describe the sensation of magic, the physicality of willpower, or what it meant to possess mana. That was one of the reasons he feared Tranquility and would rather face the darkspawn than the templars. 

Nathaniel nocked an arrow and took aim into the darkness, letting his sense of the darkspawn guide him to his target, and loosed it into the void. The darkspawn answered with a guttural growl and ran towards them. 

“Now!” Anders yelled, watching as Alain held up his staff and visualized the glyph of paralysis on the ground ahead of them, lighting the tunnel with strands of energy. The Hurlock sprinting towards them crossed the glyph before it was finished so only the Genlock behind it was slowed down. 

Alain panicked and held his staff out so the orb at the end crackled with electricity. He squeezed his eyes shut as the hair on his arms stood on end and he summoned a crack of lightning that arced between the approaching darkspawn. Before the Hurlock could close in on him, Nathaniel loosed another arrow that pierced through the darkspawn’s eye and sent him hurtling to the ground. 

“Keep your eyes open,” Serenity said. “You were there when Meredith was summoning demons to possess statues. These are nothing compared to her.” 

Alain begged to differ, dizzy from the pungent odors that stung his nose, but aside from their ghastly appearance and imposing stature, she was right. He had faced worse and survived. He concentrated on his next spell and built on a small flame, gathering heat and drawing on the Fade to build it into a molten rock before throwing it into the genlock that broke free of the glyph on the floor. It rolled around on the ground, screeching as the flames melted its skin, until Serenity froze it with Winter’s breath and Anders shattered it with a Stonefist. 

“Collect the blood of the Hurlock,” Serenity said, gesturing towards the one closer to his feet. 

Alain took the empty vial she’d provided him and grimaced as he pressed it against the monster’s face, half expecting it to look up at him with its one good eye. “This is gross.” 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Anders muttered. 

“Still want to join?” Nathaniel asked. “It’s not too late to go back to the Circle. The Knight-Captain would take you.” 

Serenity didn’t object to Nathaniel’s suggestion, though she knew if Duncan were here, he would have said the choice had already been made. This was not a blight, however. She wanted Alain to join her, but she wouldn’t push him to. “He’s right.” 

“I don’t ever want to go back there,” Alain said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen too much… I can’t. I would rather join you.” 

“Then, we’ll go back the way we came,” Nathaniel said. “We can take a ship to Ferelden and you can undergo the Joining there.” 

“We’re not accompanying them further?” Alain asked and glanced over at Anders. 

“No,” Nathaniel answered. “We only came this far for your Joining. Serenity wanted to see you face the darkspawn.” 

“You passed the first test,” Serenity said and patted the back of his shoulder. “Besides, you got Hurlock spew on you. We don’t want you getting sick.” 

Mabari-Cullen whined and blocked Nathaniel from leaving. 

“What?” Nathaniel asked, confused. “I don’t have any treats.” 

“You know what he wants, Nate,” Serenity smiled. “We’re not leaving until he gets it.” 

“He’s not pulling rank on me,” Nathaniel said indignantly and sighed as he reached down to pat Mabari-Cullen on his side. He rolled his eyes when the dog turned to get a scratch on his rump. “You’re testing me, dog. I know you.” When Mabari-Cullen whined and slumped his head forward dramatically, Nathaniel gave in, “Fine! One scratch!” 

Serenity laughed, “You give him something once and he demands it all the time. I can’t tell you how much money I’ve spent on ham hocks that could feed a whole family.” 

“That’s one reason these dogs don’t make good pets,” Nathaniel answered. 

“Well, he’s not a pet,” Serenity said. “He’s my partner.” 

“You’re lucky,” Alain said. “I wonder if… maybe someday I could have a dog. Mages don’t keep pets in the Circle. Not animals they could call their own, anyway.” 

“Right,” Anders said. “The mouser in the Circle, Mr. Wiggums, was hardly mine, but he was good company. And then there are those lonely enough to try to keep the mouse.” 

“We’re leaving now,” Nathaniel said, giving M.C. one more firm pat on his backside. “Get back to work, boy. Keep these squishy mages safe.” 

“Nate, did you really just call me ‘squishy’?” Serenity scoffed. “I’m in the thick of battle while you shoot arrows from up on a tall rock where the darkspawn can’t reach you.” 

Nathaniel chuckled wryly and raised his hands in surrender. “Did I say that out loud? Forgive me, Commander. Just trying to remind your Senior-Warden what his duties are.” 

“We’ll be seeing you,” Serenity said and gave Alain a long look, hoping she would see him again. If he didn’t survive the Joining, she would regret bringing him into the fold. But it was his choice. 

  


They parted ways, with Nathaniel escorting Alain back to the surface while Serenity and M.C. traveled further into the Deep Roads with Anders. It would be weeks before they reached their destination. Her maps only took them so far. It was said the Deep Roads reached all corners of Thedas, even going beneath the Waking Sea. That was her plan. Though she might have been able to request Cullen see that she and Anders could safely board a ship, she was afraid it would cause more trouble for him. There was always a templar on board, keeping an eye out for stowaways—either coming or going. 

It was difficult to choose their clearings to set up camp, what with the constant sense of darkspawn looming nearby, but they stopped when Mabari-Cullen did. He would woof quietly and turn in a circle before settling down for a nap. Sometimes he would take a nap after what they thought felt like only a few hours, but it made it easier to take turns keeping watch.

It was impossible to keep track of time in the Deep Roads and easy for one’s sleep to become irregular without the light of the sun to wake by. On extended trips into the underground, Serenity slept when she was tired and ate when she was hungry, but she never knew when she emerged from the darkness whether she would find the light of day or the night sky.

She was beginning to worry about her dog, but she didn’t say anything. She was afraid if she said something, it would make it real. Instead, she concluded that they were in the dark and it could be midnight or early morning outside, the usual time someone might be sleeping. She wished she could take Mabari-Cullen to a stall for a big juicy ham hock, but he would have to settle for cheese and jerky for now. She kept a hand on his side to feel the rise and fall of his breathing as he slept. 

She looked over at Anders where he lay with a hand tucked under the old hand sewn pillow under his head. She had hardly said a word to him since they left Kirkwall. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to speak with him. She just didn’t know what to say anymore. “Anders?” 

  


He opened his eyes, squinting through the light of their modest campfire. Most of a day—or what he guessed was most of a day--would go by before Serenity broke the silence, gently prodding him with questions that carefully avoided the topic of the mages and templars. They each knew where the other stood. At least, he knew where she stood. He wasn’t sure about himself anymore. 

“Yes, Serenity?”

“Do you feel any different now?” she asked. “Inside you?” 

“I thought I would feel free,” he answered. “I don’t.” 

“Free of Justice?” 

“I don’t know. Free of the weight of the world, maybe,” he said. “But the war has only just begun. I had a hand in forcing the Circles to reassess how they treat us, but… I don’t know how it will turn out. I’m trying not to think about it. It’s difficult not to when it’s so quiet. All I can hear are my thoughts.” 

“I’m sorry,” Serenity said gently. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Anders sighed. “You could have killed me. I deserved to die. Everybody knows it. Everybody but you.” 

“I want you to live,” Serenity frowned. “Does Justice still grasp at your mind? Do you still feel a call to action?” 

“I don’t know,” Anders said. “I fulfilled my purpose. I saw it done. I don’t know whether it’s me or Justice—we’re the same person—but I want to know what will come of the rebellion. The mages took a stand. Some of the templars even stood beside them to deny the Knight-Commander the right of annulment. What will the Chantry do with that?” 

“Time will tell,” Serenity said. “But you are dead. Remember that. The dead have no place in the Circle or the politics of the living.” 

Anders fell silent and turned on his side to face her. “Think they’ll give me a tattoo on my face? Girls like face tattoos, don’t they?” 

Serenity smiled, “If you do ask them for ink, I hope you commit to a full face tattoo. I’ve seen some rather dainty designs that go over the eyebrow or over the cheek. You should get a tattoo that has lines over your eyelids, nose, and lips.” 

“You’re a sadist,” Anders muttered with the hint of a smile. 

“Can I ask you something as a mage?” 

“Of course,” Anders answered. 

“Wynne was a spirit healer too,” Serenity said. “You both trust spirits more easily than anyone else I’ve ever known, but I think that’s because you know how to communicate with them. How do you know if they’re good or not?” 

Anders sat up to see her face above the flames. “Why are you asking about spirits all of a sudden? Has something approached you?” 

“I had a dream,” she answered. “It’s not the first time. There was a demon in my Harrowing, one that I thought was a part of the test. But he wasn’t the demon the First Enchanter meant to test me. I’ve met him since then in the Fade, probably more times than I even remember.” 

“But you said he’s a demon?” Anders asked, concerned.

“He didn’t appear to be one at first,” Serenity said. “But he was manipulating me, trying to earn my trust by teaching and helping me. He knew the rage demon I was meant to fight.” 

“He might not have been a demon,” Anders said, “but you expected him to be. Spirits can be helpful.” 

“If they can be believed. He wasn’t just any demon. He was Pride.” 

“The other side of Wisdom,” Anders answered. “We can corrupt spirits even in the Fade. Don’t underestimate the power of perception and will. Do the wisps attack you when you dream?” 

“Those little balls of light? It doesn’t hurt, but I’ve been zapped a few times,” Serenity answered. 

“Wisps are playful and curious,” Anders said. “But if you think them hostile, they will be.” 

“Now I feel bad for zapping them back,” Serenity said. “The pride demon doesn’t always appear as a demon. He usually appears to me as Mouse.” 

“As a mouse? That’s odd.” 

“No, a… a human mage who sometimes takes the form of a mouse,” Serenity answered. “I’m not sure what to make of him.” 

“If he sustains this image of a mage, he might have possessed him before,” Anders said. “When does he take the form of Pride?” 

“When I need him to,” Serenity answered thoughtfully. “He was teaching me. He protected me. But I still think it a manipulation to gain my favor and to show me that I need him so that I might reciprocate.” 

“If that is what you think, then you should kill him,” Anders advised. “I believe spirits can be changed, for better or for worse. But promise me you won’t try to save him. In the Fade, spirits are more malleable. But out here? Our world ruins them. _We_ ruin them. They don't know how to adapt to a world so rigid.” 

“I would never let a spirit possess me. Not even to save my life,” Serenity said. 

She wondered what would happen to Wynne and how the spirit of Faith might have changed her. The way she had described her possession sounded more comforting than how Anders described his, but they both became more than themselves. They both felt their spirits merge with the spirit that joined them. 

“When I die, I think Justice will find his way back, and he will shine as brightly as he did when we first met him,” Anders said, comforted by the thought. “I regret that I affected him the way I did, when all I wanted to do was help him. He wanted to help me, too. I thought I was fulfilling his purpose, but his purpose changed when he became me. It feels different now though. Not in a bad way. There’s less anger. Less fear. But I don’t know how long I’ll feel this way for. There is so much injustice in the world. What if he finds some new purpose? What if he demands more of me?” 

“You serve the Legion of the Dead,” Serenity reminded him. “That is the price you must pay for the injustice you wrought on Kirkwall. Don’t forget that. Any time you feel Justice stirring, remind him of the hundreds of innocent lives you took.” 

“You’re right,” Anders said dejectedly. “They deserve justice.” 

Serenity looked down at Mabari-Cullen as he lifted his head with a yawn. “We should get a move on. I think we might be in Ferelden now. We could take the next tunnel leading up and replenish our supplies. Maybe travel above ground to reach the Frostback Mountains.” 

“It might help us gain our bearings,” Anders agreed. “I’ll jump into the next fiery pit we come across if we go up for air and find ourselves back in the Free Marches because we took a wrong turn.” 

“There is no way we doubled back. I might not have a map, but I have a compass,” she said and dug it out of her pocket to toss it to him. 

“You know lyrium messes with these things, right?” Anders asked. “It’s almost like it’s magnetic. We’ve passed a few thaigs with untouched lyrium mines.” 

“Don’t give me another reason to be anxious,” Serenity said and snatched it from him to see whether the dial was spinning in different directions. It still pointed south west. “You’re going to make me paranoid.” 

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. If we do get lost, you’re the one person I’d want to be wandering aimlessly in the Deep Roads with.” 

  
Serenity knew she couldn’t stop by Vigil’s Keep with Anders after what he did. They passed through Kal’Hirol and surfaced near Denerim to stop in the market and replenish their supplies. They followed the west road towards Lothering and passed through the blighted town. It was weeks before they found an entrance at the base of the Frostback mountains and followed the map to the Dead Trenches far beneath Orzammar in the Ortan thaig. 

It had been a while since Serenity reached out to Sigrun. For a while, after the conclusion of the darkspawn’s civil war, Sigrun had remained at Vigil’s Keep. When Serenity answered the call to Amgarrak, Sigrun thought it best for her to serve the Legion of the Dead in the Deep Roads until the Wardens needed her again. She wasn’t a topsider by nature, and though she enjoyed the time she spent exploring the surface, she felt like she belonged in the Deep Roads doing what she did best—killing darkspawn. It was every Warden’s duty but none that Serenity knew of actually enjoyed living in the Deep Roads. 

Sigrun was sitting on a broken pillar, cleaning chunks of darkspawn off her blades. She looked up at the sound of footsteps approaching and recognized the bluish glow of a mage’s staff. When Serenity and Anders came into view, she smiled, “Oh, fun. If you're coming to find me then that must mean there are darkspawn running rampant up there.” 

“Not at all,” Serenity said. “I can’t say the reason we’re down here is any better though.” 

“Huh, I was just thinking about you,” Sigrun said, crossing her arms as she looked up at Anders. “You look different.” 

“Did you miss Anders’ spicy shimmy?” Serenity asked and patted Anders’ back. 

“What, no, nooo, no,” Sigrun chuckled. 

“Don’t say it like that,” Anders muttered. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“I heard you got into some trouble from a Warden expedition passing through. That was a long time ago though,” Sigrun said. “Did you come down here chasing death like me?”

Anders sighed, “Yes, but not by choice. I’ve been exiled.”

“Anders did more than betray the Wardens,” Serenity added. “I was hoping he could join the Legion of the Dead. It was either exile to the Dead Trenches or a knife to the throat. I thought he would be more useful to the Legion.”

“We’ll take him,” Sigrun said. “We don’t get a lot of humans in our ranks, but he is still a Grey Warden. Ordinarily, he would have a funeral and a farewell ceremony, but… uh…”

“I’ve already said my goodbyes,” Anders mumbled.

“Then, we’ll get right to it,” Sigrun said. “Don’t look so glum, chum. It’s not like you’re answering your Calling.”

“That’s precisely what it’s like,” Anders scoffed. “I’ve been exiled to the Deep Roads. How is it any different?”

“Well, you’re not hearing voices in your head, for one.”

“That’s debatable,” Serenity quipped.

Anders sighed, “I don’t hear voices. It’s my own voice.”

“Uh, well,” Sigrun hesitated, “You still have all your fingernails, hair, and teeth, right? Those are the first to go when the rot sets in.”

Anders wiggled his fingers and said, “I guess that’s something.”

Sigrun knew joining the Legion of the Dead was a grim affair, but she never thought Anders would lose his sense of humor. She noticed he didn’t have Ser Pounce-a-lot with him, but she had enough sense than to ask about it. “I really have missed out on a lot, haven’t I?”

“I have all the time in the world to fill you in,” Anders answered and shuddered imperceptibly at the thought of spending his remaining years in the dark. He inwardly reminded himself that he’d chosen this—he chose to give up his freedom and his life for a greater purpose. Whatever the consequences, he had been prepared to face them. 

“I will come back to see you, Anders,” Serenity said, taking his hand when she noticed the faraway look in his eye. “I promise.”

“You shouldn’t,” Anders said. “You brought me here to die. Mourn me like you’re supposed to and let me go.”

“He’s right,” Sigrun said. “I mean, I hate to say it, but it’s a part of the gig. We never see our families again.”

“You know it’s not that easy,” Serenity said, giving Anders’ hand a squeeze before turning her attention to Sigrun. “Did you ever find Shale?”

“I did! I hope it—she comes back,” Sigrun answered. “We made a pretty good darkspawn-killing team. She would knock their heads off and they would swarm her. They’d never see me coming from the shadows.”

“She’s not here? Where did she go?”

“Topside,” Sigrun answered. “An old mage came looking for her. Real nice lady.” 

“Wynne?” Serenity asked, surprised. The senior enchanter wasn’t a Grey Warden herself. It would have been terribly dangerous for her to brave the Deep Roads alone. 

“That’s the one. She was so sweet. She knit me a pair of socks,” Sigrun chuckled. “Anyway, they went to the Tevinter Imperium to try to find a cure for Shale’s condition. For all Shale talks about how weak and squishy we are, I think she saw the benefit to being able to die. I know I wouldn’t want to live forever.”

“Once she drives pigeons to extinction, what would she do with herself?” Serenity asked. 

Sigrun laughed, “Right? No pigeons down here, but that’s pretty much the one good thing she thought we had going for us. Smashing darkspawn never lost its luster either, but she was happy to see Wynne. As happy as Shale can be, anyway. I know she doesn’t smile, but I’m pretty sure I saw her jewels glowing a little brighter.”

“How long ago did they leave?” 

“You know we lose all sense of time down here, don’t you?” Sigrun shrugged. “It could have been a month ago or… several months ago. I don’t know.”

“I think I’ll see if I can find them. I wanted to make a trip to Tevinter before, but I wasn’t comfortable going alone,” Serenity said. When M.C. barked, she said, “You know what I mean.” 

Sigrun grinned, “There’s the second-in-command. I’d give you a treat, but all I have on hand are darkspawn chunks.” 

M.C. heaved and gagged dramatically. 

“If you’re going to Tevinter,” Anders said, “just… be careful. The magisters there enslave outsiders and experiment on elves.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Serenity assured him. “Probably.” 

She doubted she would find anything to help with her study of blight magic in Tevinter, but she still wanted to find the cure for possession. She had spent weeks in Anders’ company and still didn’t believe he was beyond saving. She still caught glimpses of her friend, but she could tell Justice still influenced him—not just the way he prioritized the plight of others but in the way he spoke. He sounded like somebody else. It wasn’t quite Justice, but it wasn’t Anders either. 

She hoped Wynne could help her find answers. There was no one with more experience than her when it came to dealing with spirits. She knew Anders would never be the same as he once was. Even if Justice was extricated from his body and spirit, Anders still carried the weight of his actions on his conscience. Without Justice’s self-righteousness, how would Anders cope with what he did? Could he? 

It wasn’t her place to fix him. She knew that. But she couldn’t stop trying. She felt like the clock hadn’t yet run out, but it was still ticking down. Anders carried the taint inside him, and she didn’t know how that would affect Justice. If the taint had the power to corrupt the old gods, surely it could corrupt a spirit just as easily. She couldn’t endanger Sigrun or the other Legionnaires should Anders become an Arcane Horror. But if she could not exorcise Justice from Anders, she would reverse the corruption in his blood. She would find the cure.


	2. Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has been working diligently to restore order in Kirkwall.

Cullen stood in the courtyard of the Gallows to oversee the shift change of the morning guard. He had spent the last several months coordinating with Aveline to see the city repaired and stability within the Circle restored. But all that they had accomplished could easily be undone if they weren't careful.

It used to seem simple. The mages were kept confined to the Circle for the dangers they posed—their ability to create fire from thin air, the way they drew demons to them, the forbidden arts only they could harness that would infringe on another’s free will. But the duty of the templars was not only to protect the people from the mages but to protect the mages themselves. After the explosion in Hightown, the people demanded blood—out of fear as much as anger. Many of the templars within the Gallows were more than willing to oblige the demands of the civilians across the harbor. Cullen tried to discourage it, but there was only so much he could say to dissuade them from their deeply rooted prejudices. Fortunately, those outspoken templars loyal to Meredith were far outnumbered by those willing to perform their sacred duty as he commanded. It helped tremendously to have the influence of Starkhaven's templars bolstering their ranks. 

Any merchants that used to sell from the Gallows courtyard had been relocated to the market in Lowtown. Any who were not residents—templars, mages, or Tranquil—were barred entry to the Circle grounds. The Circle’s stores, manned by Tranquils whose enchanted items helped fund the operation of the Circle, were moved to Hightown. Sometimes it felt exactly the same as it had been under Meredith’s command. He was trying to make it better. 

Other Circles, he knew, allowed certain freedoms the mages in Kirkwall couldn’t have. They couldn’t take leave of the Gallows to go into the city’s market or to visit family, even for a day. He had started taking requests for visitors and allowed letters to leave the Circle. But all outgoing and incoming mail was read through by a templar first. The mages still had no privacy. It was dehumanizing, but it was a necessary precaution. 

“Knight-Commander.” 

Cullen turned his attention to the messenger holding a missive out in front him. He accepted it and broke the wax seal but stopped reading as soon as he saw _Dear Knight-Commander Rutherford_ in familiar dainty penmanship. He didn’t like to read his private correspondences where others could see. He thought it sweet that Serenity addressed him as such so confidently when he hadn't yet informed her of his promotion. Considering how he had taken control of the Circle, he had half-expected a transfer back to Greenfell where he wouldn't have any contact with mages. It surprised him when the Right Hand of the Divine arrived in Kirkwall to question him and, following her investigation, chose to reward rather than punish him. 

He had questioned and disobeyed. He did what he believed was right, but his actions allowed the public to see the dissention within the order. Meredith had always instilled in him the importance of appearing unified and standing together. Doubt within the ranks would sow doubt within the people. Doubt was a chink in the armor that the mages would exploit. 

But he stood by his decision. It was a relief to hear a Seeker of Truth remind him that the right choice was not always the easy one. 

  
Cullen crossed the courtyard to sit at the desk in what was once Meredith’s office. He hadn’t exactly made it his own, but all ledgers, reports, and incoming mail were delivered there. He had previously deemed his room in the officers’ quarters within the barracks appropriate enough to keep his work space, but that wasn’t so anymore. He needed to be accessible to everybody—the recruits, the templars, the mages, the First Enchanter—and he needed a separate space where he would not be bothered. 

He unwound the wax cord from the missive and read: 

  
_Dear Knight-Commander Rutherford,_

_I’m afraid it will be a while yet before I can return to the Free Marches. I was going to write you as soon as I surfaced, but I thought it would be a lot more interesting if I wrote you from the Tevinter Imperium. I heard Wynne and Shale came here looking for a way to reverse her golem state and thought I should join them. I have my own questions I wanted to find answers to. Unfortunately, I arrived too late. They’ve already left._

_I didn’t tell you about it before, but I helped Caridin destroy the Anvil of the Void far beneath Orzammar. I try not to think about that first trip down into the Deep Roads. It was then I learned about the worst depravities of the darkspawn and the dwarves. I still have nightmares about it._

_The golems we see house people inside them, some of them volunteers, some of them unwilling sacrifices, all of them stripped of their free will to be used as weapons. All but Shale and Caridin himself. I know the magisters in Tevinter like to experiment with lyrium. They even have golems here in Minrathous. But I don’t think there is any way to undo what Caridin started. I wish there was._

_I think you would like to see Minrathous, at least from a perspective of historical appreciation. The darkspawn and even Andraste’s armies could not capture this city. It’s formidable and extravagant, but it’s falling apart and held together by magic. Whose, I wonder?_

_I may regret admitting this, but I had no idea Tevinter still had their own Circle of Magi. I’d always just imagined the mages walking about freely, casting magic in the streets—which they do, by the way. I kind of wonder what purpose the templars serve here. I’m sure you already know about the stark differences between the Imperium’s Chantry and Circle compared to the rest of Thedas, but I had always assumed their Circles were disbanded. They don’t operate in the same way and I didn’t dare step foot inside (if they would even allow me to). There might be something to learn from the way they run things, but I imagine it’s dangerously political._

_I came here hoping I might learn more about spirits and whether there are ways to extricate them from the possessed. I was able to meet with somebody here, an apprentice to a powerful magister. I became acquainted with him several years ago over long distance, but I never thought I would ever see him face to face. There are already known methods to free the possessed, but it involves killing the spirit in the Fade. I am looking for a way to separate a spirit trapped on the physical plane from a living being. I refused the offer of help from the magister though. He would have used slaves as subjects for experimental magic. I think it’s abominable._

_My trip here was not a complete waste, however. I heard the Tevinter armies use strange mounts. People actually ride armored dracolisks in their cavalry. They look like a dragon got frisky with a horse (poor horse!) but I wouldn’t want to get too close. Their teeth are at least as long as my fingers. What I was really excited to see was the elephant. I drew you a picture to try to illustrate just how big they are. They’re incredible. The stablemaster kindly allowed me to feed one a melon._

_I am returning to Ferelden. If you write me, I’ll be stopping in Redcliffe. I’m sure Arl Teagan will receive it for me._

_With love,_

_Serenity Surana_

  
Cullen turned the parchment over to examine the doodles in ink and chuckled. She had drawn herself (as indicated by the arrow pointing at the pointy-eared stick figure labeled ‘Me’) holding a watermelon, standing beside a round elephant with a trunk. He had seen illustrations of the creatures before by professional artists that had the skill of realism, but he appreciated her attempt to convey its size to scale with the simple lines of her doodle. 

He looked up at the sound of a firm knock on his open door as Seeker Pentaghast stepped into his office. She had an intense presence and an authority higher than the Knight-Divine, but he wasn’t intimidated by her. He had already answered all of her questions about what occurred in the Gallows. Her interrogation extended far beyond the day of the explosion and Meredith’s fall from grace. She wanted him to tell her everything—from the beginning. And he had no choice but to oblige her with the truth. 

She knew about what happened in Ferelden. She knew how he’d failed as a templar. She knew why he had followed Meredith and why he no longer could. The only thing she didn’t know about was Serenity. He made no mention of her as he recounted the events in Kinloch Hold, his time in Greenfell, his transfer to Kirkwall, and how everything fell apart with the death of the viscount. 

But why was she here now? 

“Seeker,” Cullen said as he stood up from his desk to greet her. 

“Knight-Commander, I have been looking all over Kirkwall for the Champion and everybody claims ignorance to her whereabouts. Her estate in Hightown is empty. Her uncle hasn’t seen her in weeks. Most of her known associates have disappeared,” Cassandra said, clearly exasperated. “We believe the Champion and her companions were here in Kirkwall to spread subversion against the Chantry. Her disappearance leads me to think she has fled.” 

Cullen ran his hand over his hair as he considered the allegations. “I can’t say for certain your suspicions are unfounded, but I never thought Hawke had any involvement in what transpired that day. Her younger sister is a mage. She had reason to defend the Circle from annulment.” 

“I know you said she helped the templars in the years leading up to the attack, but she was also hiding an apostate,” Cassandra reminded him. “I have spoken with Aveline, but she claims not to have been involved with most of the Champion’s exploits. She also claims the Champion was nothing more than a Ferelden refugee. They arrived in the city together during the blight. Did you know that?” 

“No, I didn’t,” Cullen answered. “Hawke has never confided anything to me. I can’t say I know her well. But without Aveline’s help, Kirkwall would have fallen apart a long time ago." 

“I am looking for Varric Tethras,” Cassandra said. “I believe he will have all the answers I need as Hawke’s closest confidant. But even confined to the Circle, her sister might know something. I want to speak with her.” 

“Follow me,” Cullen said. “Since the day I collected Bethany from her uncle’s house in Lowtown, she has been nothing but cooperative and well-mannered. I’ve never heard her utter a single word against the Chantry or the Circle. She’s adjusted better than most. She passed her Harrowing and took to teaching the apprentices. Even during the uprising, she never resorted to blood magic.” 

“I am surprised,” Cassandra said as she followed him across the courtyard. “I did not think you would hold a mage in such high esteem.” 

“I only mean to say that I don’t think Bethany was a part of any plot,” Cullen answered. “But I… try not to look at mages the same way I did before.” 

“That is good to hear. It is never too late to do better. What Kirkwall needs more than anything right now is stability,” Cassandra said. 

Cullen led Cassandra into the mages’ quarters and stopped in front of Bethany’s cell, relieved she was still inside her room and not in the library on the floor above them. “Bethany, I need you to come with us,” he said. “This is Seeker Pentaghast. She has questions for you.” 

“For me?” Bethany asked and set her book down as she stood up. 

Seeing the look of alarm that crossed her face, Cullen reassured her, “You’re not in any trouble.” 

“We’ll speak in private,” Cassandra said. “Knight-Commander, I’ll find you if I need you.” 

* * *

  
"Commander," Knight-Captain Rylen called out as he intercepted Cullen in the courtyard. "Did that Seeker find you?"

"Yes," Cullen answered. "She's with a mage. Do you have something to report?"

"One of the Tranquil in Hightown was assaulted today," he answered. "The assailant was apprehended by the templar on duty, but the city guard insisted on taking him in. I brought the Tranquil back with me."

Since the uprising, they had been faced with loud and angry mobs, but Aveline had coordinated with the templars to dissuade the people from trying to cross the docks. Cullen had enough on his plate just trying to manage the threats within his own ranks. For the most part, he had redirected their attention to rebuilding and protecting their charges rather than punishing them. Those that turned to blood magic did so when they had the opportunity to fight back. The rest had peacefully surrendered. 

"She was attacked out in the open? Did she say why?" Cullen asked. 

"People don't all know the difference between a mage and a Tranquil. Some of them just see the robe. Maybe he thought the templar would intervene on his behalf and prevent her from casting any spells," Rylen said. 

"Is she all right?"

"She's fine," Rylen answered. "No more than a bruise." 

"Thank you, Rylen," Cullen said, dismissing him. 

Incidents like these were why he had to keep the mages confined to the Circle. If he allowed even one to leave, they would require a templar to escort and safeguard them. Would the people ever stop blaming them and demanding justice? Those responsible were already dead or gone. 

Cullen returned to his office to draft a reply to Serenity's letter:

  
_Dear Serenity,_

_I am glad to hear you are safe and that you did not compromise your beliefs for the pursuit of knowledge. Your intentions are noble, but I am curious why you are undertaking this endeavor now. Did something happen? Or does it have to do with the child you told me about? I know his death weighed on your conscience. I was unkind when you confided that to me. You did what you had to._

_Hawke evidently left Kirkwall shortly after you did. You didn't leave together, did you?_

_With Aveline's help, we've restored some semblance of order to the city. Starkhaven sent me templars to double our forces and Knight-Captain Rylen has proven indispensable in our efforts to curtail unjust punishments and corruption within our ranks._

_Ostwick sent me Maxwell Trevalyen to serve as our First Enchanter. I learned Philliam a Bard! is his cousin. The next time you are in Kirkwall, I will arrange a meeting with Maxwell. He's proven to be level-headed and acquiescent. He pushes, but he seems to know exactly how far I am willing to bend. Ostwick is a far cry from the Gallows, but he understands the fragile state we're in. He understands what I'm trying to do and has been surprisingly supportive._

_I still sometimes look at his compliance with suspicion, but I try not to. He hasn't given me any reason not to trust him. But neither did Orsino or Uldred until they turned. I don't know anymore whether thinking that way is cautious or irrational. I know the Knight-Commander of Ostwick would not have sent him if he didn't think him exactly what we needed. I am not at all familiar with the nobility of the Free Marches, but Maxwell told me he comes from a family loyal to the Chantry. He would have been pledged to the templars if he hadn't come into magic. I know how important he is to the future of this Circle. I see less fear in the faces of the mages since his arrival._

_I don't know when this letter will find you, but I hope it finds you safe and well. I look forward to hearing more of your ventures beneath Orzammar if it isn't too painful to recount._

_Signed,_

_Knight-Commander Cullen_


	3. Weisshaupt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity arrives in Weisshaupt and meets the Chamberlain of the Grey as well as the Warden, Caronel.

Serenity had taken the Imperial highway directly north to Minrathous without stopping to sight-see on her way there. On her way back to Ferelden, however, she felt it would be a wasted opportunity not to educate herself on the Wardens in Weisshaupt or pursue learning about spirits in Nevarra.

She bought a fine silk cowl from a vendor in Tevinter before she left, long and light enough to wrap comfortably around her head and shoulders without overheating. She'd hoped to find a kaddis for M.C. with heat resistance, but the Tevinters didn't place the same importance on their dogs as Fereldens did. She ended up buying a length of fabric that she would sew braided ties to in an attempt to shelter him from the sun. As she fitted the 'cloak' around his legs and under his chest, he wriggled out of it defiantly. He had never had to wear clothing before, but the kaddis would hardly protect his skin once they left the fairer weather and the shade of trees. She even fashioned socks to protect his paw pads from the hot sand, but he whined incessantly as he stomped around awkwardly in them—and then he pulled them off with his teeth. 

He would come around, she thought. 

* * *

  
Serenity knew the Anderfels was an arid desert after the Second Blight tainted the land, destroying all vegetative life, but she had never seen anything like it. It wasn't long after they left the oft traveled Imperial highway and followed the signs west towards Weisshaupt that M.C. stopped and keened meaningfully about his sore feet.

"Good boy," Serenity said and applied an ice salve to his paws before affixing the socks she'd made for him. She gave his nose a kiss before offering him a drink from her waterskin. "I'm sure they have healers in Weisshaupt if we need them. And more water." 

M.C. barked happily and started off ahead of her. He no longer made a dramatic show of an awkward gait, instead moving as if the socks weren't even there. 

"Aren't you forgetting something, Cullen?" Serenity asked, holding up the little cloak she’d fashioned for him. 

He looked back over his shoulder and whined. 

"Are you saying this is too much?" she scoffed. "You have a very short coat." 

He hung his head defeatedly and waited for her to catch up to him to tie on the awkwardly sewn piece of fabric.

"You'll thank me later," Serenity insisted. He might have looked like a sentient sack of potatoes—and he knew it—but he wouldn't take ill from heat stroke. She was no seamstress, but the cloak served its purpose. 

It was a long trek through the barren hills before Weisshaupt came into view. Serenity remembered seeing it before in the dream constructed by Sloth. But her dream didn't truly convey its imposing size. From within its walls in the Fade, she only glimpsed how large it was. But from afar, seeing it protrude from the jagged butte, she could visualize the Wardens at their peak, thousands strong, taking off in flight on the backs of griffons. Their banners still flapped in the wind, their royal blue bleached grey by the sun. 

She climbed the jagged pathway up the mountain, reminded of those damnable stairs to Hightown, only these were considerably worse. The cliffside was so steep that the path wasn't straight but a series of switchbacks that made the journey feel twice as long. She looked for a lift to shorten the distance, but if there had ever been one, it was long gone now. 

"How hard is it to install a lift?" Serenity grumbled. "I don't know how much money the Wardens have, but I think it should be a priority, don't you?"

M.C. chuffed in agreement. 

When they finally reached the top, Serenity sat down beside Mabari-Cullen where he splayed out in the shade, panting.

"Only a little farther," she said, tiredly untying the ropes that held his cloak against his body. "I could use a nap too. And a cold bath." 

M.C. exhaled, resting his head between his paws. 

Serenity drew on the cold from the Fade and held her hands over M.C. to cool him. It took more energy than she thought it would, but the climb had really worn her out. Casting a spell, even one so little, made her dizzy with exhaustion. 

"Just a little farther," she said and willed herself to her feet. 

She expected there to be guards at the gate and realized how silly a notion that was. What would be the point of posting someone at the door when they likely never received any visitors? She hadn't passed a single soul after disembarking from the Imperial highway. No one braved the trek across the Anderfels on a whim. And why should they? 

There was no blight. There hadn't been any resurgences of darkspawn since the civil war between the Disciples. Nobody, save the Wardens privileged enough to hear the long-kept secrets of the order, even knew about the talking darkspawn. As far as the people of Thedas were concerned, the Grey Wardens saved Ferelden from the Fifth Blight and wouldn't be needed again for hundreds of years.

As Serenity entered the courtyard she'd seen reflected in her dreams, she imagined the ghost of Duncan there to greet her. But the fortress itself was a ghost of what it once was. She found a door and walked inside. She'd read the fortress housed a mausoleum, but all of Weisshaupt resembled one now with its dusty empty halls and overgrowth of dried out vines.

She couldn't even guess what wing she'd wandered into, but the tapestries hanging from the walls, once vibrant, were dulled by the dust that collected on the threads. She didn't stop to examine the relics on display, more eager to find somebody that could show her to a wash basin. 

"Don't pee on anything," she whispered to M.C. as he went about sniffing everything they passed, with the exception of the dusty tapestries. 

"Hello?" Serenity called out and winced at the sound of her voice echoing down the marbled hall. 

A door further down the corridor creaked open and a handsome elf emerged from the room wearing a crisp blue and grey gambeson of the Grey Wardens. The angle of his cheekbones and the sharpness of his eyes reminded her of Zevran, but his blond hair framed his unmarked face in waves. 

"I see you made it," he said casually. "We lost sight of you as you approached Broken Tooth." 

"Thought I'd plummeted to my death, did you? I almost did after I ran out of water," Serenity said and held up her shriveled waterskin. 

"Follow me," he said. "My name is Caronel. I would have guessed you were coming from Kirkwall, but you have a Ferelden accent." 

"What would make you think that?" 

"You wouldn't be the first apostate from the Free Marches seeking the Wardens," he said and stopped when he heard the clacking of claws on the tiled floor behind them. He turned to see M.C. by her side, clearly more surprised by his presence than hers. "The sentries saw you coming from the watchtower, but no one said anything about a mabari." 

"He's a Grey Warden too. Maybe they didn't see him because he was covered in red sand," she suggested. 

"You're..." Caronel's expression changed with subtle realization. 

"Serenity," she finished. 

"The Hero of Ferelden," he said and continued walking. "A room was prepared for you, Commander. The Chamberlain will want to speak with you as soon as you're ready, but you've had a long journey to get here. I'll have a meal brought to you." 

"And bath water?" she asked, shaking the red sand from her hair. 

"Available in your room," he answered and led her upstairs to a barracks. 

"Ugh," Serenity groaned, aching with each step. 

Caronel looked back at her and subdued a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. She knew how dramatically she struggled up the stairs, but she was pretty sure the Broken Tooth trail was enough to cause most people to cramp up and buckle without enough water. She did nothing to hide her disdain for the stairs, grunting with each strained step. 

"My dog needs a bath too," she said when she reached the top. M.C. stopped beside her and shook out his coat, leaving a layer of red dust around him. 

"I'll, ah… see to it," Caronel offered as he brushed away the dust that landed on his tunic. He led her to the first room on their left and opened the door to her guest chamber. 

If he had any interest in her story or questions about the Fifth Blight, he didn't show it or speak his mind. Instead, he left her in her room and excused himself—hopefully, she thought, to bring them food. 

She filled her waterskin from the pitcher and poured herself a cup before setting the pitcher on the floor for M.C. to lap from and removing the sand-caked clothing from her red tinged skin. She wondered what made the landscape the color of brick dust, whether it had anything to do with the blight’s corruption. She had expected the land to be black like a charred forest or like the color of darkspawn blood. 

While she soaked in her bath, relieved the water wasn’t steaming but at room temperature, she didn’t hear the knock on the door. She lost track of time, drifting in and out of an exhausted daze, until M.C. whined. She noticed then that her fingertips had shriveled up. 

She put on a clean tunic set upon the chest of drawers against the wall and opened the door to find a tray of food. M.C. helped himself to one of the bowls of stew before she had a chance to bring it inside. 

“If you want more, you’ll have to go beg the kitchen staff,” Serenity said and waited for him to finish before picking up the tray. She knew better than to bother him when he was eating. He was crankier than Nathaniel on an empty stomach. 

Serenity ate her supper, relieved to have something more than dried meat, bread, and cheese in her stomach. As soon as she finished eating, she wanted to look around. It didn’t matter that her feet were sore or that she didn’t know what time it was. She was finally in Weisshaupt. She could finally meet the First Warden and the Chamberlain she’d sent so many letters. She could finally ask why she seldom heard anything back. 

“If you want to dip into my bath, make sure you don’t shake off in my room,” Serenity said as she stepped out into the hallway. She still didn’t know where she was, but she knew she could retrace her steps to the room Caronel had come from when she first arrived. As she descended the stairs, however, he met her halfway. 

“You’re awake,” he said. “I thought maybe you’d fallen asleep in the tub.” 

“I think I did,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to waste daylight sleeping. Did you tell the First Warden I’m here?” 

“I hope you didn’t come here to meet him,” Caronel answered. “He isn’t here. But the Chamberlain is looking forward to making your acquaintance.” 

“I thought the First Warden would have a fancy chair and a big office.” 

“Oh, he does. He just rarely uses it,” he said. "You would think with how the Wardens tout neutrality and keeping out of politics, the figurehead would practice what he preaches. But he plays the Game." 

"Have you met him?" she asked. 

"No," Caronel answered. "If he doesn't have time to meet the Hero of Ferelden, what would make you think he would find the time to meet me?" 

"Proximity?" Serenity shrugged. 

* * *

  
The Chamberlain appeared to be a wiry old man with deep lines set in his face that would have deepened with his smile, but they only served to make him look grim when he wore a neutral expression. Serenity was reminded of Avernus and wondered how old the Chamberlain was, whether he extended his life through blood magic or whether the grey in his hair belied his age. She rarely met older Wardens as most of them answered their Calling before old age.

His office was in dusty shambles, but Serenity imagined he preferred it that way. Senior Enchanter Sweeney had referred to the mess on his desk once as ‘organized chaos’ and it looked much the same. There were piles of books on the desk, chair, and floor rather than placed on bookshelves, and collections of rolled up and folded letters were strewn about the room on every elevated surface. 

“I wasn’t expecting you,” the Chamberlain said as he scooped up a pile of books from the chair in front of his desk, disturbing the layer of dust that had settled on them. “What brings you all this way? It must be important for you to leave the arling.” 

Serenity felt her nose stuff up and cleared her throat as it itched from the dust in the air. She didn’t think it bore mentioning that she was on her way back from the Tevinter Imperium. Her mission as a Grey Warden brought her here, but her personal mission as a mage was hers alone. 

“As you know, I’m looking for a cure,” Serenity answered. “I thought it might help to look through your archives. You have sensitive information, personal accounts and history meant only for the Wardens kept here. I thought perhaps you could help me find something useful.” 

“We have recruits that can help you with that,” he said, taking his seat across from her. “You have free reign of the library. What are you looking for?” 

“I wrote in one of my letters that I met the Architect,” she said. “Did you read it?” 

“I did,” he answered. 

“You hardly ever respond to my correspondences,” Serenity said uncertainly. She kept them informed, perhaps more than she needed to. 

“You send many, yet you hardly ever ask for anything, and for that, I am grateful,” the Chamberlain answered. “When you asked for Wardens at Soldier’s Peak, did you not receive assistance?” 

Serenity cleared her throat again. Avernus had neglected to mention whether any Wardens answering their Calling had shown up on their doorstep while she was in the Free Marches. If he had extended his life with their sacrifice, she would have liked to have been told about it. 

“But I sent a missive during the darkspawn’s civil war,” she said. 

“At the time, we did not have enough information to advise you,” the Chamberlain answered. “You made no mention of the Architect or the Mother until after they were dead. You mentioned the Orlesian Wardens were missing, but you did not request aid until after the attack on Vigil’s Keep.” 

“But I mentioned the talking darkspawn in my letter,” Serenity insisted. “I had no idea they existed. You did. I was not the first Warden to meet the Architect. You could have warned me.” 

“No, you were not,” the Chamberlain answered patiently. “What’s done is done. You ensured the Architect is dead. Those that met the creature before advised that course of action. You did what the others could not.” 

“But there are more ancient magisters,” Serenity said. “They practice a kind of blood magic that can accelerate and reverse the corruption in one’s blood. Blight magic could potentially provide a cure to the taint or at least prevent the Calling.” 

“Is that what you are here to research?” the Chamberlain asked. “Talking darkspawn and blood magic?” 

“Yes,” she answered, a little disappointed in his apparent disinterest. “Have you received any correspondence from Commander Larius?” 

“We received notice that he went to answer his Calling years ago,” the Chamberlain answered. “Why?” 

“He was still alive when Hawke sought out Corypheus in the Vimmark Mountains,” Serenity said. “Did you receive any word at all about him?” 

“Not in some time,” the Chamberlain answered. “Last we heard, the prison was secure and the seals reinforced.” 

“Then, you don’t know Corypheus is dead?” Serenity asked. “Along with Senior Warden Janeka.” 

“By the Maker. Corypheus was slain?” the Chamberlain asked, pushing aside a pile of parchments to clear enough space for him to write a letter. “Are you certain? I need a full report on this at once.” 

“I wasn’t there,” Serenity said, leaning forward to read what he was writing so frantically. His handwriting was hard to decipher upside down. “I can only tell you what I was told. The seals on the prison were broken. Janeka intended to free the magister, but Larius opposed her. Hawke killed Corypheus. I had concerns about how dead he was too, but she assured me he was ‘very dead.’” 

“Hawke,” the Chamberlain repeated. “Malcolm Hawke? The mage who reinforced the seals?” 

“His daughter, Marian,” Serenity answered. 

“Everything we know about Corypheus suggests he is the most dangerous darkspawn we’ve ever encountered,” the Chamberlain said as he stilled his hand to sigh and rubbed his brow. “I suppose you learned about this on your mission to learn about the talking darkspawn and their blood magic?” 

“Yes,” Serenity lied. “Are there any other accounts of talking darkspawn you haven’t shared with me?” 

“No,” the Chamberlain answered curtly. “If there are, they’re buried in the archives. I don’t have time to be digging through old letters when I am busy enough receiving new ones. If you should make any progress on your search for a cure to the corruption, I ask that you keep me apprised.” 

“Of course.” 

“You’ve proven yourself tenacious,” the Chamberlain said and looked up from the letter as he dipped his quill in the inkwell. “Many have looked for ways to prevent the blight, but none have pursued a cure for the sickness. It might not solve the greater problem, but it would most certainly help the Wardens in their fight.” 

Serenity felt her skin flush. She felt like he was demeaning her mission and suggesting she didn’t pursue the more noble cause. But she tried not to let his words bother her. Preventing all future blights was what the Architect wanted—and she had killed him. It seemed an impossible task. A dangerous one. 

Duncan had told her the Grey Wardens existed to stop the blight—at all costs. But some costs were too great. Maybe she wasn't a very good Grey Warden to get hung up on the details, but she had to consider what the potential solutions to end all future blights would entail in the long term. What would the world look like a century later had she allowed the Architect to continue his experiments? 

But what she was trying to do wasn’t impossible. She could learn blight magic. She could harness the taint and reverse it, perhaps even eradicate it. 

“While you were in the Free Marches,” the Chamberlain continued, “did you learn anything about red lyrium?” 

“I learned to stay far away from it,” Serenity answered. “It drove the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall mad. She wasn’t exactly stable to begin with, but it made her much, much worse.” 

“The First Warden is seeking answers about the nature of red lyrium,” the Chamberlain said quietly. “He believes the blight might have corrupted it. But we cannot study it without a sample.” 

“It’s dangerous,” Serenity said. “Even just touching it can make you crazy.” 

“If it is the taint within the lyrium, the Grey Wardens may be better equipped to study it than even the dwarves are,” the Chamberlain said. “Better yet if one of our dwarven Wardens can look into it.” 

“And will you tell me what you learn?” Serenity asked. “That is information all of the Warden Commanders should be aware of, yes?” 

“Mm,” the Chamberlain grunted noncommittally as he signed his letter and looked up from the parchment as the ink dried. “I have a question for you. I am aware of the circumstances surrounding how you became the Commander of the Ferelden Wardens. There was a lot you weren't taught before you were thrown into the middle of a blight and a civil war. But I am sure Riordan explained how killing an Archdemon works and why the Grey Wardens make the ultimate sacrifice. How did you survive?” 

“As I stated in my letter,” Serenity answered guardedly, “the Witch of the Wilds, Flemeth, provided an ancient blood magic that allowed me to live. The old god’s soul was destroyed.” 

“Do you know this spell?” the Chamberlain asked. “Can you teach it to others so it can be studied?” 

“No,” Serenity answered. “The spell was cast on me, not taught to me.” 

“No other Warden has ever slain an Archdemon and survived. Some doubt the veracity of your claims. Some believe the Archdemon’s soul yet lives and will return, that you did not end the blight but delay it,” the Chamberlain warned her. “I suppose only time will tell if it’s true. A blight has never ended so abruptly.” 

“You don’t believe me?” Serenity asked. 

Granted, she was lying, but she thought it sounded better than the truth. She couldn’t confess to Morrigan’s sex ritual and the reincarnation of an old god. Whatever Morrigan had planned for the child, Serenity imagined it was better than what the Grey Wardens would do if they knew about it. 

“I am not outright denying your claims, but I hope you can understand why I keep a healthy level of skepticism,” the Chamberlain said. “We must replenish our numbers to prepare for the worst. You’ve done well to increase the forces in Ferelden, but I have heard you’ve recruited an unusually high number of apostates. It caused a bit of a stir within the Chantry, as you well know.” 

“What business is it of theirs who we recruit?” Serenity asked. “The Grey Wardens aren’t under the authority of the Chantry.” 

“No, we aren’t. But we try to keep the peace when we aren’t at war. Ordinarily, we limit the number of mages we take in,” the Chamberlain answered. “We are allowed a mage from every Circle. Duncan recruited you. But you took in two wanted apostates from the same Circle. Friends of yours, I presume.” 

“That’s right. The war might not have reached the Anderfels, but it ravaged Ferelden,” Serenity said defensively. “I also took in a mage from Kirkwall. The mages I’ve taken in were being hunted, but they had a lot to offer. They all survived the Joining and they’ve all proven invaluable.” 

“Are you forgetting one of your recruits became an abomination and murdered the Constable Warden?” the Chamberlain reminded her. “Among several others, as I understand.” 

“Your Constable Warden and the templar he allowed to stalk my friend drove him to desperation,” Serenity said assertively. “I’m not excusing what he did. He’s paying the price for it now in the Deep Roads. But he saved my life on more than one occasion. He was invaluable to _me._ ” 

“We have had other mages come to our gates looking for refuge,” the Chamberlain said, decidedly dismissing the subject of Anders. “I expect we may see many more to come considering the current climate within the Circles. The First Warden hasn’t allowed them to undergo the rite as of yet. It might appear he’s taking sides if he does.” 

“Are you suggesting I recruit fewer mages?” Serenity asked, crossing her arms. “Because I prefer to recruit whomever I see fit.” 

“I am suggesting you avoid drawing unwanted attention from the Chantry,” the Chamberlain advised. “As far as what happens in Ferelden, we’ve entrusted the region to your care. You are the ‘Hero of Ferelden,’ after all. Your involvement in Ferelden politics goes against our decree, but you ended the Blight and killed the Architect. The First Warden can’t argue with results… or popular opinion.” 

"Are you saying I’m only the Warden-Commander because people like me?" Serenity asked, appalled. “A mouthy _elf_ with _magic_ and annual attempts made on her life? You’re joking.” 

"You have friends in high places. The King of Ferelden bequeathed the Arling of Amaranthine to you. He said it was for the Grey Wardens, but it is _your_ name upon the deed," he said. "I do not mean to diminish your accomplishments—" 

"Yet, you continue to do so," she said agitatedly. 

"Your accomplishments have merit," the Chamberlain sighed, "but for all the diplomacy you exemplified during the blight, you would risk the delicate peace we have with the Chantry by taking in so many apostates. If you continue on this path, they'll be calling you First Enchanter before long." 

_Oh? A sense of humor?_

She hadn’t thought he possessed one. 

"Well, wouldn't you know, that was my lifelong dream before becoming Warden-Commander," she said, leaning back in her chair. She would recruit as many mages as she damn well pleased, especially if it meant saving them from an overzealous templar. 

The Chamberlain sighed and rubbed at his brow again before pinching the bridge of his nose. "If you were human, I expect you would also be sitting upon the Ferelden throne." 

"I draw the line at being addressed as 'Your Highness,'" she said. "I may not be human, but I'm still a force to be reckoned with." 

"Oh, of that, I have no doubt," the Chamberlain said and looked up. “You’re dismissed, Commander. Caronel can show you to the library.” 

* * *

  
Serenity felt disheartened as she left the Chamberlain's office, but the lukewarm reception wasn't going to deter her from her mission. She wandered the halls in search of Caronel and hoped she might stumble into the library along the way. Instead, she found the museum honoring the fallen heroes of the order with relics and plaques.

Garahel, the Hero of the Fourth Blight, held the greatest place of honor in the center of the room where his armor was on display within a crystal clear glass casket adorned by the horns of the Archdemon, Andoral. 

"What do you think?" Caronel asked from the doorway behind her. 

"An impressive collection," Serenity murmured. "It's kind of sad though, isn't it?" 

"What is?" 

"That this is all that's left of him," she said. "And there's hardly anyone here to learn about him and hear his story." 

"I’m pretty sure when most people come here, their first inclination isn’t to feel sad but inspired. I don't think there's anyone alive who doesn't know his story, especially among the elves," Caronel said evenly as he entered the room to stand beside her. “But what about yours? There isn't anything here to commemorate your victory against Urthemiel." 

"I would rather be alive than have a shrine,” Serenity said. 

"I don't think the two need be mutually exclusive," Caronel said. "Not that I have any say on the matter." 

"It was Alistair that called me 'the Hero of Ferelden,'" Serenity said. "I don't think the Wardens here see me that way. I'm starting to think they might even see me as a bit of a pain in the ass." 

"Whatever the Chamberlain told you, try to take it with a grain of salt," Caronel said quietly. "He wasn't there." 

"Were you?" Serenity asked as she turned to face him. His Ferelden accent was somewhat buried underneath the nuances of the Anderfels, but she was sure she heard it. 

"I was," Caronel confirmed. "I grew up in the alienage in Denerim. Before the battle at Ostagar, tensions were coming to a boil between the humans and the elves. The Arl's son treated us like dogs. There were riots after the Battle of Ostagar that devolved into a massacre. They destroyed our homes and shops before they tried to purge the alienage. I fought back. I was one of the few scrappers to make it out alive. The gates were locked for weeks. A lot of those that weren't slaughtered starved to death or fell ill. I left as soon as the gates opened." 

"I saw the aftermath," Serenity said and thought he didn't look much older than she was. She wondered if, prior to the templars taking her away, she had been friends with him. "Did you know my mother? Kyna?" 

Caronel was taken off guard by the question and his stoic expression gave way to surprise. "Kyna was your mother?" 

Serenity felt her heart race and asked, "You knew her?" 

"She left Denerim with me," he said. "It was after the riots, before the sickness swept through and they locked it down again. We parted ways near Redcliffe. She said she was going to the Circle to see her daughter, but I... didn't know she meant you." 

"She wouldn't have known I became a Grey Warden," Serenity sighed. 

"She would know now," he said. "She mentioned searching for the Dalish. If she hasn't found you yet, perhaps her husband's clan took her in." 

"Did she say which clan that was?" she asked eagerly. 

"Clan Virnehn," he answered. "Somewhere in Orlais, I think." 

_Orlais._

"Thank you, Caronel," Serenity said, inwardly mapping out her next destination. 

As eager as she was to track down her mother to the south, she still needed to travel to Nevarra. If anyone could provide her with answers to her questions about possession, she thought it would be the necromancers in the Grand Necropolis. 

"You're welcome," Caronel answered. "Can I ask you something?" 

"Sure," Serenity said and looked up at him. 

"Do you think your story belongs here, among these other heroes?" 

"I don't know," she answered and looked back at the glass casket honoring Garahel. He had brought nations together to fight against their common enemy. He spent years fighting to end the blight. She couldn't even guess how many friends he lost in battle or to the blight sickness. 

She considered herself lucky. It could have been so much worse. Duncan had recruited her at the beginning of the blight, before the darkspawn established a foothold and spread beyond their borders. Despite Loghain's best efforts, he hadn't been able to stop her from gathering her forces or gaining the loyalties of Ferelden nobility. She was able to unify Ferelden with the Wardens' treaties and the voices at the Landsmeet. 

But she defied the Grey Wardens' tenet _In death, sacrifice._ She had shirked her final duty because she was afraid of dying. She took a leap of faith and trusted Morrigan, even without knowing. She surrendered because she was selfish. And she was still scared. She still dedicated her life to avoiding death. She knew it could save countless lives, but it was confronting the broodmothers in the Deep Roads that drove her to find a cure to the Calling. She would do anything not to answer it. 

How, then, could she see herself as an equal to Garahel when he gave his life to save all others? She risked everything to continue to live. But she couldn't admit to that. She couldn't say it aloud. 

"You're not what I expected," Caronel confessed. 

She'd heard that before. 

"Oh?" 

"I thought you'd be..." 

"Taller?" she asked. 

Caronel chuckled, "I was going to say older, but since you mentioned it..." 

"I had only just passed my Harrowing when Duncan recruited me," she said. "I was only seventeen. It feels like a lifetime ago now." 

"I also didn't think you would be so humble," he said. "You managed to end the blight while the Teyrn had a bounty on your head." 

"I also bested him in single combat," Serenity smirked. 

"That thing I said about being humble? I take it back," he teased with a subtle smile. 

"I was going to let him live," she admitted. "His selling slaves to Tevinter was especially deplorable, but I was going to make him undergo the Joining. Alistair wouldn't have it. I didn't want to undermine Ferelden's soon-to-be king, nor did I want the Wardens to appear fractured." 

"You really could have forgiven him?" Caronel asked. "You would have trusted him enough to fight by his side?" 

"As crazy as it sounds… I would have trusted him, yes," Serenity said. "Forgiven him, though? I don't know. But I think the Wardens could have used him, especially during the siege on Denerim." 

"What was it like?" Caronel asked. "I haven't been back since I left." 

"It was chaos," Serenity answered. "We would have lost the city without the support of our allies. Orzammar's military helped us clear out the Market district and aided Oghren in keeping the front gates clear. The Dalish protected the alienage and helped us kill one of the darkspawn generals. The Circle of Magi cleared out the palace district for us. And Redcliffe's army held back the darkspawn when we reached the top of Fort Drakon and fought the Archdemon. If Riordan hadn't crippled its wings, it could easily have escaped." 

"It doesn't sound like you needed Loghain to lead the troops," Caronel said. 

"Perhaps fewer lives would have been lost," she said. "Perhaps not. I would have liked to have learned something from him myself, regardless. I could have transferred him to the Anderfels if I couldn't move past his misdeeds. But I like to think I would have found interesting ways to punish and rehabilitate him." 

“Maybe you could have had him resurrect the legendary Night Elves,” Caronel suggested. 

“Night Elves?” Serenity asked. 

"Their story has been kept alive by those who knew of them. They were city elves lead by the Teyrn when Ferelden fought for freedom from Orlais. They will not be found in any book, nor will you find a single statue for them anywhere in Ferelden," Caronel said. "But they are one of the biggest reasons none of us grew up serving people in elaborate dresses and masks." 

"Loghain led them? I never knew," Serenity murmured. "I wouldn't have guessed, considering he turned around and sold the elves to the Vints during the blight. I'm disappointed Maric did nothing to help the elves after their part in the rebellion. It was in his power to influence change." 

"The elves served their purpose," Caronel muttered. "They were sent back to the alienage to be forgotten again. Maybe the shemlen were afraid of their potential. Who else would they have to fetch their wine at their feasts?" 

"At least Alistair is trying," Serenity said. "He still has servants, but they’re paid a fair wage." 

"So I’ve heard," Caronel said, casting her a sidelong glance. "You must have had some influence over him." 

"Some," Serenity admitted. "I was granted a boon. I requested the elves in the alienage be treated better. He saw that Shianni was made Bann of the alienage and granted a voice in the Landsmeet. It’s a start." 

"That was your doing?" Caronel asked, his stoic mask slipping again. "You could have had riches or requested the Circle’s independence and you asked for that?" 

"I don't believe in making the Circles independent, and it's up to the Divine to see reform, not the King," Serenity answered. "I asked for what I felt was most needed. What does a Grey Warden need riches for? We are bound by duty and blood to the order. I would rather affect change that won't be buried with me when I'm gone." 

"I can say with certainty that the qualities you possess are what make a great Warden Commander," Caronel said. "I don't think most people know the truth. Stories have been told, but they're only pieces to a puzzle that don't always fit together. Your story should be told. We could learn something from you." 

"All the Chamberlain is interested in is how I survived," Serenity said. 

"We all wonder the same thing, but it doesn't make you less of a Grey Warden," Caronel said. 

"Doesn't it though?" Serenity asked, looking up at him. 

"You ended the blight," Caronel answered. "I only hope the stories that follow you don’t neglect that you’re an elf… or a mage. The humans erase us from history and repurpose it when they can. But the Wardens are different. Garahel wasn’t forgotten. You shouldn’t be either.” 

Serenity smiled, “I appreciate that. I’ll think about how I want my story told. Another benefit to being alive is being able to have some control over the truth. But I do think they should hire a sculptor to capture Duncan's likeness. He deserves some kind of commemoration. I wouldn't be here if not for him. Neither would Ferelden." 

"Was his body never recovered from Ostagar?" 

"It was. Alistair kept his shield. I have his weapons. But I'm not handing them over to anyone," Serenity said, crossing her arms. "The Chamberlain can pry them from my cold, dead hands." 

"Do you use them?" he asked curiously. 

"Not as often as I mean to," Serenity admitted. "I'm more comfortable wielding a staff, but I learned how to swing a sword. An ancient spirit taught me." 

"You're an Arcane warrior?" 

"How do you know about the Arcane warriors of Elvehnan? Even the Circle of Magi has limited knowledge of their history or magic," Serenity said. 

"I found such a spirit myself," Caronel answered. "After I left the alienage and travelled to the forest of Arlathan." 

"You... did? Please, teach me everything you know," Serenity said. "What was shared with me is still hazy." 

"You want me to teach _you_? I think you should be the one to teach me, Commander." 

"I'll share what I've learned," Serenity said, "if you do the same for me. I have a grasp on a few spells, but I could certainly use some practice pairing them with a sword and dagger." 

"Then, for as long as you're here, I will be your sparring partner," Caronel offered.


End file.
